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If Lockhart was as surprised as Anthony, he didn't show it. He tilted his head slightly and gave Hermione a reassuring smile—just as Harry and Ron came running out of the Great Hall, each holding two muffins—then Lockhart took a step forward.
Hermione was still glaring at him.
"What did you just say, Professor Lockhart?" she repeated. Harry and Ron slowed down and exchanged glances.
"Now, now," Lockhart said, "relax, child. You're a clever little witch, and, to be honest, I've always admired you. So I'm more than happy to tell you a few truths, and that is, this path won't work."
Hermione said, "But—"
Lockhart cut her off: "No wizard would want to free house-elves, and no house-elf would want to be freed. It's like trying to crossbreed a manticore and a fire crab—neither side would be happy about it, and nothing good would come of it." He had already walked up to Hermione, placed a hand on her shoulder, and lowered his head, speaking in a gentler, more persuasive tone. "And it won't do you any good either, Miss Granger."
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Hermione frowned, biting her lower lip tightly.
Lockhart turned to Harry and Ron, flashing his bright teeth again: "Alright, boys, do you really want to spend your free time thinking about these things? How to save little creatures who don't need saving at all? I'm sure you both have better things to do! Your Quidditch, Harry, and your—" Ron looked up and met his gaze, "well, I remember your mother, Mr. Weasley. Don't forget to write to her. And, of course, most importantly, remember to read my adventure series! Also, you can look forward to my upcoming new autobiography—"
"But house-elves need it!" Hermione cried, tears welling in her eyes. "Do you know about Soody and Wobble?"
Harry and Ron exchanged another look. From their expressions, Anthony guessed they had heard this more than twenty times already.
"I don't think—"
"In 1673, Soody was unhappy with her master's abuse, so after her master ordered her, 'Don't let anyone disturb me, including you,' she locked her master in a room until he died of thirst!"
"That's just—"
Hermione raised her voice: "In 1702, Wobble's master thought Wobble was too old and useless and wanted to dig out his eyeballs for potion ingredients! Wobble overheard his master talking to a friend, fled to the town, and begged a group of Muggles for help. Do you know what he said?"
Anthony couldn't help but ask, "What did he say?"
Hermione choked up: "'Save Wobble. Wobble will give you one eye, but Wobble wants to keep one.'"
"And those are exceptions!" Lockhart waved his hand dramatically, drawing everyone's attention back to him. "In all this time, there have only been a few odd house-elves who wanted to betray their masters."
"That's not betrayal, Professor Lockhart, that's resistance and self-preservation—"
"Miss Granger, I can understand your eagerness to do something. At your age, it's easy to be drawn to vague but noble words like 'freedom' and 'equality.' But sometimes, you also need to think about whether they truly need these things. Oh, don't look at me like that. I know what you're thinking. 'He says it's easy—he's saved four or five villages without asking if they wanted help.' But if you had my keen insight and powerful magical abilities—"
"Of course they need it!" Hermione said loudly, her body trembling slightly with emotion. "These examples show that house-elves are intelligent beings with emotions and preferences, just like us, and many of them are suffering because of wizards' enslavement! Soody was sentenced to death for murder, and Wobble died for violating the Statute of Secrecy and trying to escape—ha, trying to escape!"
"Calm down, my dear child," Lockhart soothed with a knowing smile. "Yes, yes, it all sounds very appealing, but we should ask ourselves: Is freedom forced upon house-elves truly freedom? Do they really need it? You see, just like what I did in Colonia—"
Hermione was almost beside herself: "The banshees in Colonia are different from house-elves, Professor Lockhart!"
Lockhart said, "Well, I can see they look a bit different, but anyway, Miss Granger, I still suggest you think carefully about my words once you've calmed down."
"How can you ignore their suffering like this, Professor Lockhart?" Hermione demanded. "Didn't you say that the most important thing to you is always fighting evil and helping friends in need, no matter where they are or whether they have magic?"
"You've always been a very loyal reader and an excellent student… So, as someone who's been through it, let me tell you a secret, Miss Granger. If you want to be famous—especially to stay famous—there's one very important requirement." He paused deliberately, lowered his head, and whispered earnestly, "Don't go against the majority, especially those most likely to become your followers. Words of wisdom, my child, words of wisdom—this advice goes for you too, Harry."
Hermione's voice rose high and sharp with anger: "I don't need to be famous! I'm not doing this for fame!"
Lockhart looked somewhat surprised and seemed to find it amusing.
"Of course you're not," Lockhart said casually, waving his hand dismissively. "That's why I admire you so much, Miss Granger. To me, fame is just an accident, the least important thing. What matters most is always fighting the forces of darkness."
"Oh…" Hermione sounded confused. "Yes, I know, Professor Lockhart."
Lockhart gave Hermione a perfect smile. Ron made a face at Harry, as if he had just eaten a very sour lollipop. More students who had finished their meals came out of the Great Hall, glancing curiously at Lockhart and Hermione as they hurried to their classes.
"Well… but… I don't understand, Professor Lockhart," Hermione said, still frowning. "I remember you just… Did you say you didn't want to join because you didn't want to lose the convenience of enslaving house-elves?"
Lockhart wagged his finger: "I never said anything like that, Miss Granger. But I probably should tell you that I don't want to join your house-elf… or whatever protection society because I don't really agree with your ideas. Still, I admire your passion."
"Aren't house-elves enslaved?" Hermione asked. "Professor Lockhart, didn't you also save those half-goblins locked in the wardrobe when you met them?"
"Hmm, perhaps. But the situation is different," Lockhart said. "Oh dear, time is running out. I need to get to class. I'm sure you should all hurry to your classrooms too."
He turned and walked away briskly.
"Did you hear Professor Lockhart, Granger?" a student Anthony didn't know suddenly said loudly. "He would never join your crazy society. Stay away from him; you're causing him trouble."
Another student said, "Potter, I suggest you stay away from her too. Have you read the newspapers?"
Anthony said, "Alright, everyone, off to class. What's your first class, Mr. Potter?"
"Herbology, with the Hufflepuffs," Harry said.
"Then you'd better hurry," Anthony said. "The third greenhouse, right?"
Harry nodded: "Yes, Professor Anthony."
Hermione took a deep breath, her eyes red.
"I understand what's going on," she said fiercely. "He's famous, so he doesn't want to fight against those old and ugly customs for house-elves! This—this—hypocritical coward! What do you think?"
Harry and Ron both looked a bit strange.
"Makes sense," Harry said. Hermione stared at them for a moment, then looked away, letting them off the hook. Ron visibly relaxed, nudged Harry with his elbow, and shrugged.
Hermione turned and stared at Anthony, seeking confirmation: "Is that it, Professor Anthony?" Her expression seemed to suggest she hoped Anthony would deny her guess.
Anthony also thought it was inappropriate to speak ill of a colleague in front of students.
"It's hard to know what's in everyone's mind," he said. "Speaking of which, Hogwarts itself has many house-elves. Since you think they need help, and Professor Lockhart—and some others—think they don't, why don't you ask the house-elves what they think?"
"Hogwarts has many house-elves?" Hermione looked very surprised. "But I've never seen them!"
"I guess that's because they don't want you to see them," Anthony said. "Anyway, they're in the kitchen, helping prepare our daily meals, cleaning the castle, and keeping the winter fireplaces roaring. In other words, most of the daily magic in Hogwarts Castle is actually them."
"I never knew…"
"Well, now you do. Talk to them."
Hermione said with determination, "I certainly will."
Anthony saw a hint of danger and warned, "If you'll allow me to say one more thing, Miss Granger, remember to show them respect. I'm not saying you'd hit or scold them—" he added before Hermione could protest, "just don't criticize their thoughts. I mean, if you want to understand their thoughts, at least listen to them first instead of immediately arguing. In a way, I think house-elves are almost as proud as centaurs—please don't tell either of them I said that."
Hermione still looked unconvinced, but she said, "Alright, Professor."
"Don't let me keep you any longer," Anthony said. "Off to class."
"I'll go to the kitchen. Thank you, Professor Anthony," Hermione turned around. "By the way, Harry, I didn't become friends with you to be famous."
Harry grinned: "I know."
"Yeah, don't talk nonsense, Hermione," Ron said. "'It's Wingardium Leviosa,' oh, and the troll. I've never seen such a strange way of making friends."
Hermione blushed slightly: "Shut up, Ron."
Ron laughed: "Have some cake." He handed over the muffin in his hand and stuffed the other into his mouth.
"Right," Harry said, handing his to Hermione as well. "You didn't eat much breakfast."
Hermione hesitated, then suddenly threw them back, hitting the unsuspecting Ron ("Hey!"). Ron spat crumbs all over himself, coughing violently. Harry was almost hit too, but he caught the cake, so now only a few crumbs spilled from between his fingers, falling onto the floor and his shoes.
"Oh, goodness, sorry, Ron! Sorry, Harry!" Hermione said. "It's just that I suddenly thought—" she suddenly looked angry again, "these come from enslaved house-elves! I won't touch a bite of them!"
"Fine, you'd better not eat anything for lunch either," Ron said grumpily, turning to Harry and looking at his sticky fingers. "How could anyone think she's trying to get close to you for fame?"
Harry clenched the cake: "I don't know."
Hermione was already marching toward the entrance hall.
"Scourgify," Anthony said. "Alright, off to class. You're going to be late."
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